


Like Clockwork

by veroreos



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gender-neutral Reader, Happy Ending, Multi, Mutual Pining, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Zarya and Mei as workout buddies and probably also girlfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-11-20 18:17:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11340783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veroreos/pseuds/veroreos
Summary: Even when everything falls apart, he still has you.Or, rather, still doesn't have you.





	1. The Usual Late Nights

**Author's Note:**

> there's been a MAJOR lack of fluff in the Reader/76 tag lately so here i am, writing this self-indulgent garbage and forcing it upon all of you

The progress bar has been at 67% for at least ten minutes, you’re fairly certain. As you rest your chin on your hand, leaning on the arm of your chair, you fight to keep your eyes open, trained on the bright monitor in the dim room. You can go to bed as soon as this is done compiling. There shouldn’t be any more errors, you should be almost there...almost...there…

“I see we’ve been overworking you again.”

You jerk upright, suddenly wide awake at the sound of the Strike Commander’s voice. “C-Commander Morrison, sir!” The chair wheels around so quickly in your effort to turn and salute him that it rocks to one side and you have to stop yourself from falling over, cheeks burning as you fail to meet his gaze. “I’m, uh, I’m almost done, I know it’s past curfew but I, I just had a few more adjustments to make…”

The blond man gives you a knowing smile from the doorway as your voice trails off. This is probably the third or fourth time he’s caught you in the lab in the dead of night in the past month _alone_ , staying long after everyone else had gone to bed for no reason other than your own work ethic. While you worked on quite a few prototypes that he personally oversaw, you were still just a simple engineer; being caught _multiple_ times by the _Strike Commander_ _of Overwatch_ was so embarrassing your heart could barely take it.

He never reprimanded you though. On the contrary, he normally just came in and fussed over your health, making sure you weren’t feeling too pressured by the deadlines they’d set and making you promise to get a good night’s sleep.

Like now, as he walks over to your desk. “Define ‘almost done’ for me,” Morrison says with a raised brow. You spin back around to face the monitor and feel your face turning pink as he leans over your shoulder to peek as well. “67%, huh? That sounds promising.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, sir,” you say, eyes flicking over to him, desperately trying not to turn your head because oh _god_ he’s leaning in so close you can practically feel the warmth radiating off of him. “It’s been stuck on 67% for a while now.” When he leans back, you let out the breath you’d been holding before turning back around to face him. “I just have to make sure it finishes compiling correctly before I roll out the changes to everyone.”

“As diligent as ever,” he says with a warm smile, and you can’t help but beam at the compliment. “Is there anything I can to do help?”

You think on it for a moment, pursing your lips before giving him a small shrug. “Only thing I can think of would be a cup of coffee.”

Morrison nods, giving you a pat on the shoulder. “Two creams, four sugars?” He laughs in response to the embarrassed look you give him. “I overheard Miss Oxton teasing you about it the other day.”

“She doesn’t get to tease me when she takes _six_ sugars,” you mumble as Morrison chuckles, heading over to the door. You give him your thanks as he says he’ll be right back, sinking back into your chair again. Only a minute after he leaves you can feel your eyes glazing over again.

You wake up to the smell of coffee nearly an hour later. Blinking in confusion, you slowly sit up, realizing that at some point you slumped forward and fell asleep on your desk. A mug of coffee sits off to the side, and after a moment you realize there’s something draped over your shoulders.

The Strike Commander’s jacket.

Immediately your face turns scarlet. You quickly look around, but he’s nowhere to be seen, having apparently dropped off the coffee and jacket and left you to your work. The progress bar is now at 84%. Good progress, but still a ways to go.

Leaning back, you take the mug into your hands, sipping at the coffee. He’s managed to brew it exactly the way you like it, and you can’t help but smile as you nurse the warm drink in your hands, curling up in the warmth of his coat.

  


76 has seen you a couple of times in the halls, but hasn’t quite worked up the nerve to go see you in the lab yet. He can’t think of a good excuse; you don’t recognize him, he’s not ready to tell anyone. But still, he finds himself drawn to your smile after all these years, and you’re still as hard working and good natured as ever, evidenced by the fact that you came back despite everything that happened.

It isn’t until late one night, as he’s wrapping up his training, that he has an idea. On a hunch, he swings by your old lab, and as he peeks through the door, 76 can’t help but chuckle.

Head down, face buried in your arms, you’re sound asleep at your desk. A mug sits off to the side, along with four empty packets of sugar and two empty cups of cream.

You begin to stir as he drapes his jacket over your shoulders. “Shh. Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. You make a sleepy noise of acknowledgement as you nuzzle back into your arms, dozing off once more. He knows you’re not going to remember this in the morning.

It would seem you’re both the same as ever.


	2. An Exchange, A Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You give 76 his jacket back. 76 realizes how much he still owes you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't plan to add any more to this originally but, i felt like there needed to be a follow-up to him just dropping off his jacket like that and also i...i just really wanted to write more fluff alright leave me alone i need this

“Soldier…?”

76 freezes at the sound of your voice, taking a slow breath and forcing himself to be calm as he turns away from the barbells to face you. “Need something--?” You’re holding his jacket in your hands. “...Ah.”

You cough, cheeks bright pink as you fail to look him in the face. “I...believe you left this in my lab?”

Zarya is still lifting in the back corner of the gym, but 76 can feel her curious gaze on the both of you as he moves to meet you at the doorway. “I did. Winston asked me to check on you when I was headed back from training. You were out like a light.”

You nervously chuckle, scratching idly at your cheek. “Ha ha...he knows me well.” 76 has never been more grateful for his visor than he is now that it’s obscuring his own blush, his frustration that someone else is taking the credit for his doting, his nervousness that you’re going to catch on to him lying through his teeth. Of course, you don’t see any of those things, and you don’t catch him at all, instead simply holding his jacket out to him. “Thanks. It was cozy. Gets drafty in the lab at night.”

76 already knows that. That’s why he started giving you his jacket in the first place. “It was nothing.” He takes the jacket, slings it over his shoulder. Your eyes follow the movement, then drift down, lingering over the tight black fabric stretched across the muscles of his torso. It takes a considerable effort not to react to the way your breath hitches as your eyes subconsciously rake over him. Knowing you, you probably don’t even realize you’re doing it. If he could, 76 would let you take a closer look in private--but he quickly chases those thoughts away, awkwardly clearing his throat to catch your attention again. “Sorry if my actions were...inappropriate. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable--”

“You didn’t!” You blurt it out so quickly that you embarrass yourself, quickly slapping a hand over your mouth a half second later. His eyebrows raise, more out of amusement than anything, but you misread him and look away again. “I, ah, sorry, it just...it really was nice. I appreciated it.” Fingers smoothing over the sleeve of your lab coat, you smile softly to yourself. “It’s always nice when someone is looking out for you.”

The realization hits him like a train that he has no idea what you’ve been doing since the collapse of Overwatch. 76 had been too wrapped up in his own work, had assumed that you’d moved on with your life. But if you’re willing to come back to Overwatch, maybe you’d never stopped? Have you been continuing your work with a private company? Perhaps in secret, like him? There’s so much that he doesn’t know that he feels a heavy guilt gnawing at him that he  _ wasn’t _ looking out for you for so long.

There’s a million things he suddenly needs to say to you, to do for you, but before he can do anything, he spots Mei behind you, eyes wide with surprise. 76 clears his throat and gestures with his chin to behind you, and when you see Mei, you quickly apologize, stepping out of the way so she can enter the gym. 76 mirrors your movement and tries not to watch Mei pass, but her gaze lingers on the both of you, and when she joins Zarya for their usual workout, he can hear them whispering questions to each other.

His instinct is to snap at them and tell them to quit gossiping about his goddamn business, but your voice stops him before he can. “Hey, uh, 76?”

76 focuses his gaze onto you, and you shift nervously under his unreadable red gaze. He tries not to sound too gentle, but also doesn’t want to sound stern, but also doesn’t want to sound hesitant, but also doesn’t want to sound nervous--instead, his voice ends up cracking ever so slightly as he speaks. “Y-yeah?”

Mei distinctly giggles somewhere behind him, Zarya shushing her immediately after. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice, or at least have the courtesy to ignore it. “Sorry if this is out of line,” you say, tugging idly at your sleeve again, “but, your visor…”

“What about it?” His brows furrow as you reach up, reaching up to thin mask of metal and glass separating you from his past. Your fingers run down his jawline, and 76 is torn between wanting you to take the visor off of him and slapping your hand away.

He stills himself and does neither, and your hand stops. “One of the latches is damaged.”

“...What?” You lower your hand as he reaches up, to where your hand just was, and sure enough, the left latch isn’t  _ quite _ locked all the way. It’s not enough to immediately concern him, but if not dealt with soon, taking on stress might break it. “Oh. Huh.”

“I can fix it,” you say with a warm smile. “You don’t have to, uh--you can just leave it in my lab tonight. I’m going to be out helping Lena with a supply run. Or you can leave it outside your door or something, and I can pick it up and drop it back off for you so you don’t have to go out without it.”

The urge to lean down and kiss you is overwhelming, but 76 manages to restrain himself, as he always has. “I’ll drop it off when I get a chance. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem!” The way you beam at him makes 76’s heart swell in a way that feels far too cliche for a man like himself. “Just bring me a coffee and we’ll call it even.”

He can’t help but grin behind the visor. “Two creams, four sugars?” Your breath hitches, and he chuckles. “Winston was talking about it when he was telling Fareeha about you.”

“Winston can’t go an hour without a spoonful of peanut butter, he doesn’t get to make fun of my coffee habits!” 76 is laughing now, and after a moment of pouting and blushing, you end up laughing along with him. 

When your gazes meet, there’s an unmistakable sadness in your eyes, and 76 forces himself to swallow the guilt itching in his gut again. “It’s a deal, then. One visor and one cup of coffee, on your desk tonight.”

You give him a thumbs up before excusing yourself back to your lab. 76 watches you walk away until you’re out of sight and breathes out a long, heavy sigh. When he turns to go back to his exercises, Zarya and Mei are outright staring, and both quickly pretend like they weren’t as they rush back to their workout. Instead of staying, he gathers his stuff and heads back to his room.

A cold shower would probably be better.


	3. A Haunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then again, you always give his jacket back.
> 
> Winston calls Jack out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy SMOKES thank you guys so much for all the nice comments!!! they really drive me to keep writing this fic and i just. i dunno i appreciate them a lot. thanks folks <3

You take a deep breath before knocking on the door. There’s an immediate “come in,” and before you can get any more nervous than you already are, you force your hand to the doorknob and enter, ignoring the way your heart is thrumming in your chest.

“Commander Morrison, sir?”

Morrison gives you a warm smile from behind his desk, setting aside the paperwork he’d been looking over. “Ah, good morning! I’m surprised you’re up and about before noon.”

“My poor sleeping habits aren’t an excuse to not do my job, sir,” you say with a sheepish smile.

“They are if work is what’s giving you poor sleep to begin with,” Morrison points out, chuckling at the shrug you give in response. “Is there something I can help you with?” Words fail you, so instead you hold up his jacket draped neatly over your arm. “Ah,” he says, glancing away for a moment. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he looks almost _embarrassed_. “I hope that wasn’t inappropriate of me--”

“Not at all!” You blurt out, and when he looks to you it’s your turn to avert your gaze. “I-I, uh...it was nice. I appreciate the coffee, too. It was perfect.”

“Glad to hear it,” Morrison says with a warm smile. He pushes himself out of his chair and walks over to you, meeting you where you’ve found yourself frozen in the doorway. As he takes the jacket from you, his hands brush against yours for a moment, and you berate yourself internally for thinking about how warm they are. “Thanks for returning it so promptly. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to lie to Ana about ‘not being able to find it.’”

The idea of the Strike-Commander of Overwatch losing something as simple as his jacket makes you laugh. “It’s not a problem, sir. Not like I could explain it to Winston if I just walked around the lab wearing your jacket.” You fail to mention that Winston caught you with it on your shoulders late last night when checking up on you. Morrison probably wouldn’t be happy to hear that.

“Well then,” he says, putting a hand on your shoulder, “I’ll try to bring you a blanket next time.”

Your cheeks light up as you raise your hands in protest. “N-No, no, that won’t be--I’ll just--how about I just go to bed before 5 am next time?”

“That sounds like a good plan too.” Morrison’s kind smile makes you blush more than it should, and you’re so wrapped up in your own thoughts and fluttering heart that you almost miss the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you.

You peek over your shoulder and nearly jump in surprise when you realize that Commander Reyes is standing right behind you, arms crossed, brow raised and an amused grin on his face. Morrison is starting to say something, but you blurt out an apology and awkwardly scurry away before you can hear what it is.

Lena teases you when she finds you blushing for the rest of the day.

 

 

76 steps into your lab and, true to your word, you’re nowhere to be found. Winston is instead going over some of your schematics, and he gives 76 a nod as the soldier walks in. “They told me you’d be dropping your visor off.”

“Why go on a supply run so late at night?” 76 asks as he unlatches the visor, the hiss of it depressurizing muffling his voice slightly.

Winston doesn’t look as the visor is set on your desk. “It’s a long trip to town and back. They wanted to go later in the day to decrease the chances that Lena would be noticed. She’s not the most inconspicuous of people.”

Having a chronal accelerator strapped to your chest would do that, 76 supposed.

Out of things to talk about already, 76 turns to leave, and that’s when Winston turns to him. “They’re starting to ask questions about you, Jack.”

“They?” He looks over his shoulder, and Winston gestures to your desk with his chin. Jack frowns. “Do they know?”

“No,” Winston says, finally setting aside the schematics. “They have no reason to think that you’d come back from the dead.” There’s a long pause, Winston clearly wanting to say something else, and Jack waits until Winston decides how to properly word it. “You’re not being fair to them.”

He’s right and Jack knows it, but Jack can only run a hand through his hair and look away in shame. “You know I can’t tell them, Winston. That’d make things more complicated than they need to be.”

“Either tell them or leave them alone,” Winston says sternly, and when Jack looks over, Winston’s gaze is piercing. “Acknowledge the past or don’t, but you can’t keep toying with their emotions just because you’re too scared to tell them.”

This whole song and dance between the two of you can only end one of two ways--either Jack tells you the truth and you find out he lied to the world about his death, or he keeps lying and conceals his face and identity from you forever. Both are shitty options.

The third option is that Jack leaves you alone, stops the game entirely and simply leaves you be to move on with your life. Stops haunting you and accepts a life without you in it.

He’s not sure if he’s strong enough to let you go.

Jack leaves without another word. Winston watches him go, heaving out a sigh before adjusting his glasses and going back to his work.


	4. Old Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Lena take a late night drive together.
> 
> You never did learn how to dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all give me life. thank you so so much for the positive feedback and support!

You let out a long, exaggerated yawn as you stretch your arms, nearly whapping Lena in the face in the process. Her playful protest (‘No assaulting the driver!’) goes almost unnoticed as you slump back against your seat, eyelids heavy from the day’s work.

Lena spares a glance away from the road to look at you. “You look exhausted, love.”

“Lots of work to be done,” you say through another yawn. “Thankfully all I have left to do tonight is to fix 76’s visor. After that I can conk out, and Winston says he doesn’t need me until the afternoon tomorrow.”

She looks to you again, though you can’t quite pinpoint the emotion in her expression this time. When she speaks, her voice is soft and gentle. “I heard you and 76 have been palling around lately.”

You can’t help but snort at that. “Palling around? I’ve had a total of two conversations with him, I think.”

“Mei said you two looked close in the gym.” Lena raises a brow at your embarrassed expression before laughing. “I’m impressed, honestly! He hasn’t really...opened up to anyone. Two conversations is more than most have gotten out of him.”

“That so?” She nods, and you prop your arm up against the car door, looking out to the stars in the late night sky. You don’t know anything about the man, other than he’s a wanted criminal and is rather intimidating. The incident with his jacket was surprising given how cold he seems, but...then again, you don’t know _anything_ about him. “I think he’s just the type that’s rough on the outside, soft on the inside, y’know?”

To that, Lena lets out a long sigh. “Oh, trust me, I know. At this point I think he’s more crust than pie filling at this point. It’s nice to hear that he’s at least trying to talk to other people.”

Despite the soft music playing and the hum of the car’s engine, the silence between the two of you that follows is heavy. Lena looks like she wants to say something, but every time you look to her, expecting her to speak, she doesn’t.

It isn’t until you’re starting to doze off that she finally works up the courage. “Did you ever...see people? After everything happened?”

“What? Like, meet up with old Overwatch members?” There’s a pause before it clicks. “Oh. You mean date. No, I...didn’t. I was busy with work and all, you know how I am…”

You chuckle to yourself, ignoring the sad look in Lena’s eyes. “It’s okay to say you miss him.”

“It’s been years, Lena.” Even though your words are confident, your voice comes out small. “Everyone misses him. We’ve all got to get over it eventually, right?”

“What you had with him--”

“I didn’t have _anything_ with him,” you snap, immediately regretting the tone of your voice as Lena flinches. “I...I’m sorry, Lena. I don’t--I shouldn’t yell at you. It’s not fair of me to take this out on you. I just…”

“It’s alright. I understand,” she says, and when you look to her, she smiles at you and you know she really does. “Take it at your own pace as you need, yeah? Just let me know if I can do anything for you. Hell--all of us are here to support you.”

The car slows to a stop as you arrive back at base, and you lean over to put your head on Lena’s shoulder. “Thanks, Lena. It means a lot.”

“Of course.” Lena leans her head to rest against yours, and you both take a long moment to sit squished against each other in the car. “And, love?”

“Yeah?”

“What you had wasn’t _nothing_. Don’t belittle yourself, or what the two of you shared.”

 

 

Gérard Lacroix’s wedding was a private affair, but the reception was massive. They had it in an expansive ballroom in France, the windows stretching all the way to the high domed ceiling, leading the eye right to the crystal chandelier hanging in the center.

You weren’t important enough or close enough to Gérard to be directly invited, but when Lena said she was bringing her girlfriend to the reception, Winston offered for you to come along as his plus one. The idea of a gorilla in a suit and glasses with his engineer in tow was too good of a mental image to pass up, and you were excited to go. Admittedly, you didn’t get out enough, and you were itching to break out your nice clothes that you rarely had an excuse to wear.

Upon arrival, Winston was immediately whisked away to talk to other important people, leaving you alone with a glass of champagne.

It was what you pretty much figured would happen. You took the opportunity to wander outside into the garden, meticulously kept and bursting with colorful flowers surrounding the large circular walkway around a small wooden gazebo. Despite its beauty, it’s entirely unoccupied, everyone too busy socializing inside. You almost wonder if this is a celebration or really just a political event. Either way, you’re free to step into the gazebo, admiring the garden in the moonlight with the sound of the string quartet playing in the distance.

You’re too busy counting the number of roses and enjoying the taste of the sweet champagne to notice someone else approaching. It’s not until they speak at the foot of the gazebo that you even realize they’re there. “Not much for parties?”

The champagne nearly goes flying from your hand, but you manage to catch it as you turn sharply on your heel. “Commander--Commander Morrison, sir!” He gives you an amused but kind smile as he steps into the gazebo to join you. “I, uh, I...not that I don’t _like_ them, sir, but most of these people are...out of my league.”

“Out of your league?” Morrison’s brows shoot up in surprise. “There’s no leagues here. It’s a celebration; you don’t have to look at anyone as above you.”

Easy for the Strike-Commander of Overwatch to say. Still, you feel embarrassed for your antisocial behavior and you glance away, cheeks burning. “Sorry, sir. I should get back in there.”

“Only go in if you want to,” he says with an easy shrug. “I can see why you’d come out here. It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”

“It’s beautiful! I was surprised, they have a huge hydrangea tree over there.” Morrison moves to stand next to you as you point to the tree, the big pink puffs of flowers highlighted under the half moon. “I hear they take forever to grow.”

“Is that so?” You steal a glance at him now that he’s close, admiring how crisp his figure is in his fitted black suit--and quickly look back to the hydrangeas when his eyes briefly meet yours.

“Y-Yeah. They’re technically just shrubs. But, if you let them grow for long enough, they get so big they’re pretty much a tree. Takes a long time and a lot of care and upkeep, but they end up looking beautiful like that one.”

Morrison hums in acknowledgement, and for a moment you’re afraid you just rambled to him about something he doesn’t care about. Then he asks you about the tree next to that, about if the rose bush could become a tree, or how long it takes for a hydrangea shrub to become a tree. You’re by no means a gardening expert, but you two spend a long while together in the gazebo, sharing what information you do have and speculating about what you two aren’t sure about.

There’s a gentle lull in the conversation as you finish off the rest of your drink, contemplating whether or not you’d be able to maintain a window garden in your apartment. Morrison says your name, so softly it’s almost lost under the swell of the quartet, but you turn to him. “Yes, sir?”

“You really don’t need to call me sir here,” Morrison says with a laugh. “Jack is fine.”

“Oh.” Part of you is convinced you’ll be struck by lightning on the spot if you call him that, but you swallow the lump in your throat and ask with the kind of courage that only comes after a glass of champagne, “Yes, Jack?”

The smile he gives you is absolutely delighted. You wonder how many people still call him Jack versus how often he hears only his title. You don’t think about it for long when he offers a hand out to you. “Would you like to dance?”

In an instant you feel lightheaded from all the blood rushing to your face. “I--sir, ah, Jack, I couldn’t, I don’t...uh, I don’t really, I don’t know how to dance, and I…”

“Nobody’s here but you and me,” Jack says with a grin that’s nothing short of mischievous. “I could teach you.”

Time seems to pause as the option is presented to you. Lord knows you _want_ to, but there are so many things you’re afraid of. You don’t want to make a fool of yourself, you don’t want to assume that this means anything, you don’t want to overstep any boundaries between the two of you, you don’t want things to be weird at work…

Hesitantly, your hand reaches out towards his.

“Jack?”

You both freeze in the gazebo, retracting your outstretched hands before looking to Commander Amari standing at the entrance of the garden.  The look she gives the two of you is curious, almost similar to the one Reyes gave to you only a few weeks ago. Jack--Commander Morrison--clears his throat, looking almost as embarrassed as you feel. “Need something, Ana?”

“Gérard wants to take some photos and is requesting you be there for it. Rather loudly and drunkenly, I might add.” Morrison gives her a nod and with one last knowing smile, Amari heads back to the ballroom.

Morrison runs a hand through his hair and sighs, shooting you a sheepish look. “Sorry. I suppose I’ll have to teach you another time.”

You give him a shrug, trying not to look as disappointed as you feel. “There’ll be more weddings eventually. I’m going to remember that you owe me though, Commander.”

He stares at you for a moment, brows furrowed like he’s trying to figure something out, before he extends his hand once more, pinky outstretched. “Let’s call it a promise.”

You fail to stifle a laugh behind the back of your hand. It’s ridiculous to make a pinky promise with the leader of Overwatch, but if he’s offering, you’re not going to pass it up. You curl your pinky around his, Morrison squeezing tightly in response.

“A promise it is.”


	5. One Last Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew you were sharp, but even then--he underestimated you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize in advance for everything about this chapter

Fixing the visor takes no time at all. It’s a simple thing, really; the latch just lost a tiny screw at some point. The hardest part is finding a screw the right size, but after some digging through your toolkit, you manage to find one suitable, and just like that the visor is good as new. Er, minus all the scratches.

You set the visor down and stare at it for a moment, the building curiosity since 76’s arrival finally starting to wear at you. You would never want to invade his privacy or overstep any kind of bounds of trust, but...the visor itself is curious. It reminds you of old Overwatch tech--almost suspiciously so. The desire to take it apart is strong, and nobody is here to stop you. It’s the middle of the night...76 isn’t going to be strolling around with his mask off to check on you. Right? Probably not. But...

The red gleam of the visor stares up at you, the reflection of the fluorescent lights above almost blinding.

  
  


76 finds a box outside of his door the next morning, fixed visor inside. Securing it only feels a hair tighter than before, but he knows well that could make the difference. Slinging on his jacket, 76 makes his way to your lab, eager to give you his thanks.

You’re not sitting in your seat when he arrives. Understandable, considering you got back late and he’s up a bit early. What surprises 76 isn’t that you’re not in your chair, but that Lena is instead.

“Good morning!” She’s as chipper as ever, leaning back with her hands behind her head and her feet propped up on the desk. Though the visor covers his face and thus Lena can’t see the disgruntled look he’s giving her in full force, the crease on his forehead as his brows furrow tells her enough and she laughs. “You know perfectly well they’re not a morning person.”

“Figured they’d be asleep at their desk,” he responds with a shrug, shoulders relaxing. “Glad to see they managed to make it back to their bed for once.”

Lena  _ hmms _ , tapping her finger to her chin. “I don’t think they did. Last I saw, they were conked out on the couch in the rec room.”

“The cou--?  _ Why _ ?”

“Hana was hosting scary movie night last night. It was the one with the sisters, I think? Anyway, I’m pretty sure Hana and Lúcio dragged them into it.”

He can’t help it--76’s mind immediately imagines himself curled up next to you on the couch, you pressed against his side and clinging to him with wide eyes as you watch. His arm wrapped around you, holding you close, feeling your warmth as you lean into him…

As if reading his mind, Lena shakes her head, a knowing grin on her lips. “They might still be there.” 76 freezes for a moment before giving her a swift nod, quickly turning on his heel and walking back out. He doesn’t even think to ask why Lena was at your desk.

The couch is occupied by Hana and Lúcio, the latter slumped over against a pillow, the former leaning on him with her head tipped back and snoring rather gracelessly. You’re nowhere to be found, but at least it looks like you had good company last night. He takes just a moment to pick up the blanket that had been knocked off the couch at some point and drapes it as best he can over the two on the couch, snorting as Hana shifts to lean further on Lúcio before heading back out.

Setting this aside for now and going to carry out his daily training routine would be the more sensible solution, but on top of wanting to thank you, now he’s  _ curious _ . You were notorious for not getting out of the lab often enough, and along with wanting to thank you, he also wants to know what you’re up to. Do you read in your free time now? Perhaps you’re cooking in the kitchen? You used to bake cookies once in awhile, maybe you’re doing that?

76’s face goes hot with shame as he realizes how... _ creepy _ he’s being. Whether or not he harbors feelings for you, you’re entitled to your own life, your own space. He can’t just follow you around and stick his nose in your business because he has a crush. Taking a deep sigh and mentally shaking himself back and forth by the shoulders, he forces himself to walk his usual path back to the gym.

The usual workout keeps 76 busy for a good chunk of the day. Following that is a meeting with Winston and Fareeha, and then a check-up with Angela, and then some maintenance on his equipment, and then the blue afternoon sky is melting into the oranges and purples of night before he knows it.

It’s when he steps into the kitchen that he finds you. The classical German opera over the radio lead him to believe that Reinhardt would be there, but instead when he steps in he has to pause in the threshold at the sight of you yawning and absentmindedly peeling potatoes.

“I see the big guy has you on potato duty,” 76 says with a hint of amusement. Thankfully he doesn’t startle you too badly and when you turn to greet him, the warm smile you offer makes his heart race. “Unless you’re a fan of opera?”

You shrug. “I’m not particularly swayed by it, but yeah, Reinhardt’s serving dinner tonight. He’s outside roasting something, I’m in charge of the veggies.” You hold up the half peeled potato in your hand for emphasis. “Want me to bring some to your room when it’s all ready? It’s gonna be pretty good, and I’d hate for you to miss out on it!”

76’s breath hitches in his throat and he feels like he needs to sit down. The amount of care and attention you’re giving him, without even knowing who he is--hell, thinking he’s a wanted vigilante!--sets off the butterflies in his stomach. It feels so ridiculous, to be so smitten as if he were a teenage boy...but even now, the way you look at him makes him absolutely melt.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to grab my own plate.” You nod and turn your attention back to the potatoes, trying not to blush as 76 walks over to check out the counter. “Got a second peeler? Let me help you out.”

“Oh, you don’t have to!”

“I know I don’t. I want to.” He says it so firmly, yet so casually as if it’s the most natural thing for a dangerous man like him to want to peel potatoes, of all things. Knowing that it’s impossible to get him to change his mind, you hand him the peeler and move to wash the other vegetables. “So, I heard Miss Song convinced you to watch one of her scary movies.”

“Ugh, yes! It was awful!” 76 chuckles as you pout up at him. “Well--no, it was  _ good _ , which is why it was bad. Bad for my heart, I mean. There were these two sisters…”

The conversation comes easily to the two of you. You do most of the talking, excitedly talking about some of the movies you’ve watched with the others, while 76 occasionally comments on the few that he’s seen. He’s perfectly content with just listening to you talk and being here with you. When you’ve put the vegetables in the oven to bake and 76 has the potatoes set to boil, you finally start to run out of movies to talk about.

The song on the radio draws to a close, a slow and melancholy waltz following it. 76 wonders if it makes you think of what it makes him think of, and judging by the way you immediately seem to zone out, lost in your thoughts, he has an inkling it does.

Before he even thinks to stop himself, 76 offers you a hand. “Know how to dance?”

Your eyes widen, emotions surging through you as you try not to look flustered. “I...no, I never got the chance to learn.” His hand stays outstretched and he stares at you expectantly. “I couldn’t possibly…”

“It’s okay,” 76 says, his rough voice taking on a gentle tone. “Let me teach you.”

76 waits as you stare at his hand like a frightened deer. He can’t even begin to imagine what you must be feeling right now and he immediately feels guilty for the memories he’s dragging up, a pleasant warmth for him but what must be an unbearable sorrow for you.

Hesitantly, you place your hand in his own, and it’s as if everything perfectly aligns for the first time.

He prays that you can’t feel how his heart is threatening to beat out of his chest as he pulls you close, one hand holding yours up, the other coming to rest on your back. “Put your hand on my shoulder,” 76 whispers, partially because you’re so close, partially because he can barely find the words to speak. You do as he says just as nervously as before.

The piece is slow, thankfully, so it’s easy for 76 to direct your movements. You step on his foot once or twice with three times as many apologies, but it’s not too hard for you to get the hang of it. At least, you master it enough that you can stop looking at your feet and instead look up to 76.

It’s a mistake. You don’t know what he’s thinking behind the mask, can’t read his face at all, only know that his gaze is boring into you. However, you are an open book, cheeks burning red, eyes wide, mouth alternating from being slightly agape to biting your bottom lip. 76’s large and rough hands holding you close feel pleasant against you, and the warmth radiating off the man makes your heart ache.

He’s a good dancer, you think. Not that you have anyone else to compare him to.

You don’t realize how lost in thought you are until you hear 76 say your name, voice laden with concern. You blink up at him, confused as he reaches up and cups your cheek, using his thumb to brush away the tears you hadn’t even noticed had started to fall. A halfhearted apology is mumbled just as 76 wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. The dam crumbles and you begin sob.

76’s heart breaks as you wail, face pressed against his chest, shuddering and desperately holding onto him. All he can think to do is keep holding you, rubbing soothing circles into your back, gently running his hands through your hair, whispering apologies and reassurances against your temple with the cold metal of the mask pressed against your hot skin. It sounds like you want to say something, but it’s lost to choked back tears every time, and eventually you give up entirely. Both of you stay embraced in the middle of the kitchen for a long time, the waltz ending at some point and transitioning into a light and gentle piano piece. Faintly, 76 registers that he’s going to have to check on the potatoes at some point.

That thought is lost when you finally look back up to him, eyes still glistening with tears but a new, uncertain trepidation on your face now. 76 cups your cheek again and you close your eyes, leaning into that touch.

“It’s you, isn’t it? Jack?”

His entire body freezes up and his tongue gets caught in his throat. He wasn’t ready, wasn’t ready to tell you yet, hadn’t figured out what he wanted to say--but here you are, in his arms, peering up at him and waiting for an answer.

With a slow, deep breath, 76 removes the mask.


	6. Long Time Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all comes full circle.

Dinner is a cheerful affair, everyone crowded together in the kitchen and chatting over the hot meal. Reinhardt’s voice sails over the hubbub, encouraging people to try different parts of the roast or to take more onto their plates. McCree is saying something about busting out some drinks, to which Miss Zeigler is vehemently disagreeing and attempting to stop him. Lena is zipping around the room, and you faintly hear her apologizing for nearly knocking Hanzo’s drink out of his hand, Genji laughing in response and some angry mumbling from Hanzo.

You hear it all from outside, where you’re sitting on the balcony with 76, basking in the moonlight and savoring the crisp air of the night.

Reinhardt had walked in on your awkward moment in the kitchen. It’s good fortune that it was Reinhardt since he’s one of the few who knows 76’s true identity, but still, you two were both flush with embarrassment as Reinhardt fumbled over his words in an effort to apologize for intruding. 76 had suggested that you two take this outside to talk and you had agreed that would probably be for the best.

And so you’ve been sitting here with him for the past 15 minutes or so in silence, both of you unable to find your voices, unsure of where to even begin. You have a thousand questions, of course, but since 76...Jack, since Jack was the one who couldn’t bear to tell you his identity, you wait for him to build up the courage to go first.

He doesn’t manage to meet your eyes when he finally brings himself to speak. “How long have you known?”

“Since you arrived.” Jack turns to gawk at you and you heave out a sigh. “I didn’t know, but I  _ knew _ , y’know? Er, that probably sounds dumb, but...I kept having this feeling. Especially with your jacket, I couldn’t shake the familiarity, even though I...I thought you were gone.” Despite yourself, you can feel tears beginning to well up. “I thought I was going crazy. Trying to pretend that some stranger was a dead man…”

Every part of Jack wants to reach over and pull you close, to wipe away your tears; his hand twitches and he restrains himself. “...I’m sorry.”

“It was when I was fixing your visor that I figured it out. It’s the same tech as your old one. When I asked Winston about it he tried to play dumb, but when I cornered Lena she told me the truth.” Jack’s not sure if he’s upset or relieved that Lena ratted him out. It was for the best in the end, but still, it’s the principle of the thing-- “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

When he looks to you there’s an unexpected fire in your eyes. Sorrow, regret, indignation, and  _ fury _ that burns him alive under your gaze. Jack swallows. “I...I didn’t want anyone to know what had become of me. I was ashamed.”

“But not ashamed enough to stop you from telling Lena? Or Winston? Or Reinhardt?” You’re right and he knows it. Jack ducks his head down, unable to meet your gaze. “So what? You trusted them enough to tell them, but not me?”

“That’s not it,” he says too hastily, biting the inside of his cheek to try to catch himself. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I would trust you with my life--”

“But you didn’t, Jack!” You rise from your seat, towering over his seated form as he practically shrinks before you. “You let me think you were dead for years! Do you know what I went through trying to move on? God  _ damnit _ , I watched them bury you! Only for you to waltz back into my life pretending to be someone else for--for what? For kicks? To get a laugh out of me for caring about you?”

“You know that’s not what I was doing!”

“Apparently I don’t know anything about you.” You mean for it to come out as an angry hiss, but it ends up sounding choked. You catch another sob before it can make it out of your throat, swallowing it down and steeling your resolve. “Are you Soldier 76? Are you a stranger that I’ve never known? Or are you Jack Morrison, the man who I loved that lied to me and left me behind?”

The moon practically glows behind you, your shadow stretching over Jack as he stares up at you. His expression changes to something strategically neutral, carefully reserved as he thinks. Your hands are balled into fists, trembling at your sides. Jack wouldn’t blame you in the slightest if you grabbed him by the jacket and tossed him off the balcony.

You don’t, though. You wait for him, patiently despite how much you’ve waited for him already. Jack stands and you keep his gaze, fearless and determined even as he stands tall and looks down to you.

“I’m both.” You frown up at him and he gives you an apologetic smile. “I can’t change who I was or the things I did. I’m sorry I hurt you. I...I was too ashamed to face you after Overwatch fell apart. I promised myself I’d stay away from you, that I wouldn’t let my mistakes ruin the rest of your life. You deserved better than that. Better than what I had become.

“But when I came back at Winston’s request, and I saw you here...I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t bear the thought of missing the chance to have you in my life again. I wasn’t strong enough to keep my promise, and I was still too much of a coward to tell you the truth. Instead I just kept trying to indulge myself in this, in  _ you _ , this light that I could never have; as a result, I ended up tormenting you. I was so caught up in wallowing in my own self pity that I didn’t think about how much you were hurting. It was stupid and selfish of me, and I’m so, so sorry. Hurting you is the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

Jack feels a weight lift off his shoulders as he finally tells you the truth. You’re studying his face closely, still apprehensive, before you slowly begin to relax. “...You dummy. Did you really think I’d never find out?”

“I tried not to think about that,” he says with a chuckle. “I didn’t think I’d make it that far, truth be told. I was just thankful for what I could get.”

You shake your head, crossing your arms. “While I’m glad you’re  _ alive _ , you really hurt me, Jack. Toying with my feelings like this, intentional or not, was really unfair of you.”

“It was,” he agrees, looking away. This was the part he was afraid of--the part where you don’t forgive him, the part where he keeps making mistakes and hurting the people around him.

However, when you take his hands into yours, he’s forced to meet your gaze again, and the warmth of your smile nearly makes him melt. “However, I believe you still owe me a few years worth of dances.”

Shock quickly turns to joy and Jack is immediately pulling you in, wrapping his arms around you and holding you against his chest. You can’t help but sigh and relax against his warmth, closing your eyes as he runs a hand through your hair. “Looks like I’ll have to make that up to you,” Jack muses. “How about some dinner instead for some of those?”

“I  _ suppose _ I can allow that.” He laughs and you glance up to him, absolutely turning pink at his warm smile. Even through the scars and the silver hair, that smile, the one he’s always worn for you, tells you that nothing’s changed between the two of you, no matter how much the world around you might have. You bury your face in his shirt again, flustered. “Thank you for coming back.”

Jack leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Sorry I kept you waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW! this is the first piece of this length i've actually finished, thanks so much to everyone who stuck with me while i took my sweet time cranking this out! thank you so much for all the kind words, and i hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> i'm working on a rather lengthy Destiny fic next so there might not be any Overwatch for a lil while, but feel free to send me requests!!

**Author's Note:**

> yo send me requests at vault11overseer @ tumblr!


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